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Tasting a Passed Love

What was once pressed together  
in intimate detail is now no more.  
What was once beautiful and whole
is now without form or taste, or so I thought.  
 
I bow my head and touch the tip of my tongue  
to the cold ash of his remains, tasting the  
salty bitterness of his cock as  
it was when we were young.
Written by Nizana (Lauryn)
Published
Author's Note
I was given a few minutes alone with the burial urn of a man who was once my lover.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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